May 30, 2009
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The green fingers grope the flesh,
His grasp is firm but gentle.
Skin scorches scarlet heat,
as when the child curiously touches the handle.
As green fingers welt into inflamed rock,
The flesh magnifies to perilous eminence.
Turquoise hexagon sun is head-turning.
The speck conglomerates with the glow.
As does nebula implode, the speck is drawn in.
The fine line of reality blurs as purpose is found.
The jaw consumes the face with ecstatic grin.
The infinitesimal dot has grasped the flesh.
Ectoplasmic specters do not compare to such being.
Only single definite parable exists, believing is seeing.

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